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Walpole, Hugh, Sir, 1884-1941

"The Captives"

"
"On the contrary," she answered, "I told you because I thought you
ought to know what people were saying. The girl doesn't matter to me
one way or another--but I'm sorry for her if she thinks she cares
for you. That won't bring her much happiness."
Then suddenly her impassivity had a strange effect upon him. He
could not answer her. He left them both, and went up to his room.
As soon as he had closed the door of his bedroom he knew that his
bad time was come upon him. It was a physical as well as a spiritual
dominion. The room visibly darkened before his eyes, his brain
worked as it would in dreams suggesting its own thoughts and wishes
and intentions. A dark shadow hung over him, hands were placed upon
his eyes, only one thought came before him again and again and
again. "You know, you have long known, that you are doomed to make
miserable everything that you touch, to ruin every one with whom you
come in contact. That is your fate, and you can no more escape from
it than you can escape from your body!"
How many hours of this kind he had known in Spain, in France, in
South America. Often at the very moment when he had thought that he
was at last settling down to some decent steady plan of life he
would be jerked from his purpose, some delay or failure would
frustrate him, and there would follow the voice in his ear and the
hands on his eyes.


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